


Bury Me With Will Graham

by toupoiboy



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Depressing, M/M, Sad, Someone Help Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toupoiboy/pseuds/toupoiboy
Summary: A letter written by Hannibal to Will who had previously committed suicide. He writes his last words with sorrow to his deceased lover.
(My exercise for ideas for writing; I will create more parts if you want)





	

Dear Will Graham,

If I could start to understand the tactics it takes to feel love, I would study it, I would sketch it out, I would make myself remember how it feels to love. How it feels to experience something more than the sorrow of a leashed dog or the emptiness of a vase without flowers. How it can feel to ignore the things that people tell you and to have someone live for you, or to live through you. I was selfish, Will. I was the one living through you, you were my test and you failed me. From the beginning of when I met you you intrigued my interest and made me a better person. Your thoughts, those inner secrets that you kept locked up in a tiny box, they were mine. You were my own and I wanted to show you how wonderful life could be, how marvelous your mind was. But you didn't understand- you didn't get that I wanted to show you something beautiful- and you...you were selfish.

If I could have started to understand the meaning of time I would have wasted all of my time on you. I would have learned the reasons why the world turns and why-- and why my heart hurts whenever I think of not being with you. I would've learned the way your brain works and how you could still feel after all the terrible things I have done to you. How you could make yourself happy and how you could tell a story through your eyes.

How you could make a man with no heart feel something again. I felt something, and I longed for the days that I would see you. I was selfish, Will. I constantly wished that your problems would never leave so that I could see you once again. I knew that if you- when you got better, that you would no longer need someone like me. So I manipulated you into thinking you were getting worse. I took the tests of insanity and I pushed them into your brain making you feel like something was wrong. I took the people who loved you and I put them into a book with never-ending pages and tore each one from every dreaded memory. Yet still, you came back to me. I was the one who got to see those feelings you had. I got to listen to the twisted words you spoke and I, for one, thought they were the most beautiful words anyone has ever said. You wrote a book through your life, no matter how terrible it was. You learned to feel something other than hate. I caught you laughing to yourself about the way the world works. And it was... spectacular.

If I could I would listen to the sound of your voice on repeat. I would watch the movement of your lips as you mouthed the words to your favorite song. I would listen to the way you took deep breaths when you were scared or when you were happy-- or angry. I would've watched how your hands shook as you pointed a gun like it was the first time you've held one in your life. I wish that one day I could watch you feel the definite beauty of how it is to take someone's life and mean every bit of it.

I wish to be free of this burden that you have forced onto me. I wish that I didn't have to go another day without being with you. Why is death always the answer when something gets hard, Will? Why do we force ourselves to live in peace and harmony? Why do we force ourselves to spend every waking moment trying to be something that we're not or trying to pretend that the people around us don't look at us like we're freaks. Or murderer husbands. Or liars. We surround ourselves with the people who we think can make us feel happy again. We limit the boundaries on what we can do to each other- what we can learn from each other- what we can experience together. They make us think one way, Will, and if another person has a different mindset we're labeled as outcasts. I tried to make something for you-- of you, of us. To show you a world where it's okay to be an outcast. Where it's okay to be different from everyone else. It would be our world. We'd make something of each other, no matter what Jack, or Alana, or even Abigail had to say. We could fix each other....could've fixed each other.

I watched you grow, yet the more you grew the more your life slipped through my cold hands. The more you left- the more you hated the way I was changing you. And in some ways, I couldn't have that. I wish I could've told you that the reason I was torturing you was so that we could be together but some days you would listen to the other sides of things and I was just the monster stuck in your head that you were trying to get rid of.

Yet..you can't leave me with any pills or tricks. This isn't a magic act from the 70s or a card game where the card disappears and you never have to see it again. I'm part of you. I have weaved myself into your skin and bones and tied you up like a puppet because-- because....

I need someone like you.

I need someone to manipulate, to use. It's the way my body was coded. I need to believe I have complete control someone. Even if that is pretty fucked up.

....Now, you're gone. And people told me I was the selfish one. They told me they were glad, because if you were gone I couldn't hurt you anymore. But they will never know how much I longed for you. How on a rainy day I would sit at the window and try to see if you would be coming back. They will never know how it feels to hear someone tell you that it's your fault, or that someone's world stopped spinning because you were there. I remember going to your grave everyday and whispering the words I'm sorry because my pure ignorance wouldn't let me say it any louder. I remember sitting for long amounts of silence on those rainy days and thinking I felt your hands touch my shoulder or feeling the strong chills pervade my body. Sometimes I swear I hear whispering in my ear of the secrets we told each other; the plans that I had for you...to be....something more than ordinary. That is all I ever wanted for you, Will.

For the both of us.

I'm...sorry.

This is the only way,

Dr. Hannibal Lecter

P.S. Please. Bury me with Will Graham.


End file.
